If you aren't totally repelled by the first album's
title or indescribably grotesque cover painting, you may
find yourself enthralled by Tragic Mulatto's bizarre
musical universe. The five members  whose names are
given as Fluffy, Blossom, Flossy, Sweetums and A Piece of
Eczema  collectively sing and play bass, drums,
trumpet and sax. Produced with little sonic élan by
Dead Kennedy bassist Klaus Flouride, parts sound like jazzy
Flipper; an ominous rock rumble with jagged horn noise and
dramatic vocals. Some numbers are faster and well-organized
to the point where they resemble a '40s big band on bad
drugs; others could be an incompetent jazz combo vainly
tuning up while someone soundchecks the microphones.

A suspiciously rechristened quartet (Reverend Elvister
Shanksly, Flatula Lee Roth, Jazzbo Smith and Richard
Skidmark) turned up for the salacious second LP (pointedly
numbered VIRUS 69), a wild honking noise party that
includes such brilliantly titled scatological creations
as "Swineherd in the Tenderloin," "Underwear Maintenance"
(a detailed paean to menstruation) and a sex manual
titled "Twerpenstein." Strangely, the music is really good,
with enough structural backbone to give the songs non-
satirical legitimacy. Flatula the female vocalist (who
triples on sax and tuba) is wonderful, and the taste-is-no-
obstacle lyrics are funnier than a poke in the eye with a
sharp stick. Fans of the vulgar but hysterical could do
worse than to bathe in this delectable cesspool.

Hot Man Pussy presents a disheveled roar of
improvisational guitar-and-sax noise over which Fistula
(for it is she) and the Rev. E. Shanksley bellow songs
like "She's a Ho," "My Name Is Not O'Neill" and the
outstanding Blue Velvet-quoting "Mr. Cheese." The
incoherent blur of feedback and neck-wringing gets fairly
numbing, but two digressions  the tuba'n'banjo closer
("The Sheriff of Weed") and Fistula's operatic vocal
on "Hardcore Bigot Scum Get Stabbed"  provide welcome
breaks in the action. (The CD also contains Locos por el
Sexo.)

A well-rehearsed cover of Slade's "I Don't Mind" (with
mondo guitar and a bit of tuba) gets Chartreuse
Toulouse off to an excellent start, and the album
rarely loses momentum from there, although the shrill "My
Mother" and the lengthy and monotonous "Scabs on Lori's
Arm" are hazards to avoid. The solidly constructed (and,
except for "Bathroom at Amelia's," conceptually tamer)
songs, Flatula's down-to-business Grace Slick-style singing
and the quintet's ability to follow a musical road map
through a squealing storm of six-string horror (shifting
into acoustic gear on a couple of folky tracks!) make this
psychedelic trip one of Tragic Mulatto's great
adventures.